Gerald expressed himself much obliged to Tom for the intended favour.
“But ye’ll not be after calling my Uncle Terence, Paddy, if ye plase,” he added, his Irish blood rising with the idea that some disrespect was shown to his relative.
“Don’t trouble yourself about that, my dear fellow,” said Tom, who never wished to quarrel with any one. “My brother Jack always calls him so, and the Paddy slipped out by mistake; but you may be very sure that you’ll be Paddy Desmond from the hour you step on board, and for ever after unless there’s another Irishman to deprive you of the title, though, probably, there’ll then be a brace of Paddies.”
“Faith, I’m not ashamed of my country, and I am perfectly happy to be Paddy Desmond if you and the other boys like to call me so,” answered Gerald, laughing.
Adair finding that it was not necessary to go on board the frigate immediately, accompanied his two friends into Portsmouth, the three young midshipmen following in their wake, Gerald having first been introduced to Jack and Alick. The youngsters were fast friends from that moment, laughing and rattling away, and playing each other all sorts of tricks. No one would have supposed that they had only just met for the first time in their lives. As they turned into the High Street the lieutenants encountered Admiral Triton stumping along in his flushing coat and weather-beaten hat. He recognised Murray and Adair at once, and invited them and Jack, with Tom and his two friends to dine with him at the “George” at six.
“I shall then hear how you like being a sailor. It isn’t too late to give it up,” said the Admiral, looking at Tom.
“Wouldn’t change if they would make me a judge or Archbishop of York,” answered Tom, in a positive tone.
“Just like Jack,” observed the Admiral, smiling, “I hope at the end of your cruise you’ll have no reason to repent your resolution.”
Jack during the day picked up several more men, and returned early on board; when Tom, with no little pride, introduced his new friend to the mess, as Mr Gerald Desmond, of Ballymacree Castle, County Clare, Ireland.
“Mr Gerald Desmond be hanged!” exclaimed old Higson, who had come down tired, after having worked hard all day, and was out of humour. “Call him Paddy Desmond at once. We have no misters in this berth.”